Start them early
by Zhong TianHui
Summary: Children need to be taught certain things early on. But which lessons were those?
1. Kunai

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

When Karura saw her three year old daughter holding a kunai, her first instinct was to snatch the weapon and scream at Temari's father for leaving the child unsupervised. However, she was neither in danger of being impaled nor unsupervised. The esteemed Kazekage, sat there beside her daughter, _her baby girl_, teaching the child how to hold it properly.

She rolled her eyes at the sight. 'Why does he think Temari should learn to hold a sharp weapon when she can't even feed herself properly?' With her two year old son sleeping in her arms, Karura approached the pair with measured steps.

Yondaime Kazekage looked up at her and smiled. "Has Kankuro come to play?"

Karura narrowed her eyes at her husband. "No. My daughter needs to go to sleep."

"What?!" came a shrill cry from beside the Kazekage "It's still too early, Mommy."

Karura only needed to say Temari's name once more to get her daughter to march straight up to bed. Yondaime looked at her, his brows knitted together and uncomprehending.

"She's three," Karura explained, a sharp edge creeping into her voice "at least let her play with normal toys before sending her off to kill people in those over glorified shinobi mission."

He did not so much as bat an eye at her tone. He's probably attributing her sour mood to pregnancy hormones or dismissing her as a simple minded civilian. Without uttering a word, the Kazekage turned to walk out of the living room. Karura immediately stepped on his foot to keep him from walking out on her.

"I'm serious." Her voice both harsh and pleading. "I did not give birth to these children only to have them _die_, their throats slit by weapons you introduce to them as playthings."

She felt firm hands press on her shoulders. "Karura," Yondaime whispered, careful not to wake his son resting on his mother's arms "They're not _just_ children. They will be shinobi someday and they need to know these things from an early age..."

Her head snaps up at those words "No, they don't! What they need to know in an early age is how to eat without making a mess, how to play with toys and building blocks, and how to take care of each other! Will there be no end to this-" soft sobbing echoed in the room.

"Mommy, don't be mad..." The Kazekage gently took Kankuro from his mother's arms and wiped away the invisible tears in her eyes. "You're tired," he whispered "I'm not just saying that to keep you from shouting."

She felt hot tears trail from her eyes, this she wiped away by herself. It's not fair. A small voice inside cursed herself for falling in love with one of those glorified mass murderers. She could have lived in a quiet home in the outskirts of the village and her children could have played with wooden toys instead of sharp steel. They could have made a living selling produce instead of snatching the life out of a mother's child.

"I will protect them, Karura," he said to her "We'll both protect them." She slowly turned towards his face, hopeful. "The Third Kazekage was killed when he was forty. Can we really..."

His eyes turned away from her. "I don't know. But that's why we need to start them early. So in case we're gone, in case we can't protect them...they will be strong enough to protect themselves."

Yondaime Kazekage took this time to gently kiss her cheek and turn to tuck his son in bed. Karura's hand went to the tiny lump forming in her belly and prays. She prays to any god in the Suna pantheon who would listen.

'_Let me be strong enough to protect them. Let me keep them safe._'


	2. Death

"Uncle Yashamaru," came Temari's loud and demanding voice. She and her little brother stood in front of the only door in the nursery. They have him cornered.

"Where's mom?" the three year old demanded "She said she'd let me help trim the flowers three days ago." Kankuro stood behind his older sister, nodding his head.

Yashamaru gave a nervous smile. "What did your father say?"

"Ask Yasha," Kankuro stated.

Yashamaru sighed. He expected as much from his brother-in-law. One would think that the Kazekage of Suna would deal with his wife's death more maturely instead of hiding the evidence of his blunders. It was the reason why Yashamaru was taking care of the Kazekage's son. It was the reason he never told anyone outside the family. '_Perhaps people will figure out soon enough.' _Yashamaru thought to himself. She probably doesn't even have a headstone over her grave.

"Well..." Temari impatiently tugged at his pant leg. "Where's mom?"

_Six feet under ground._

Yashamaru knelt down so that he was eye-leveled with his niece and nephew. For too many times this year, he's at a loss on what to say to the children. "She's not here anymore." Yashamaru could feel his voice crack. "She's gone."

Temari stood in front of him, uncomprehending. "Where'd she go?"

"Like pop?" Kankuro offered. "No silly," came his sister's immediate reply "Momma's not a ninja. She can't just go pop." She turned back to her uncle "Where did she go?"

Yashamaru always knew he'd have to explain this concept to them sooner or later. It would have to be him because the Kazekage treat death like a simple statistic and his sister would go into stories of heavens and angels and other mythical creatures. '_I wonder if she's found those angels in her stories_.' Still, the medic thought he'd have to explain it too soon.

It all happened too soon. She was just 21...

"Uncle..." Temari's voice changed from her usual impatient tone to a more concerned one "are you alright?"

"Come here, you two." Yashamaru extended his hands and motioned for Temari and Kankuro to take them. "I need to show you something." They all started to walk away from the nursery.

Chiyo was just in the other room and within five minutes, she'll be doing her routine check up. Yashamaru will have to ask her to watch over the baby until he returns. He doesn't know how long this talk will take, but better that this happens now than later.

"Where are we going, Uncle?"

Yashamaru's voice was barely above a whisper. "To the cemetery." There's no gravestone there, not for his sister, but it might be easier to explain such an abstract concept with visual representations.

Temari suddenly stopped walking and let go of her uncle's hand. Kankuro looked over his shoulder and called out "Mari, why'd you stop?"

The little girl looked up at her uncle with sad eyes. "Why? Did Momma die?"

_Yes. Your father killed her._

Temari's hands were trembling and Kankuro was tugging at Yashamaru's hand for an explanation. Perhaps she's already had a talk on death with her father. Perhaps he's already explained to Temari that when a person dies, they're gone forever. When a person dies, all the things you do together and all the memories you've been trying to make just comes to a halt. It all just stops happening.

Yashamaru knelt down, once more. He could hear muffled sobs from Temari's small frame. The Kazekage would often tell him that it's best to start them early. It's best to teach them to become ninjas and handle emotions while they're children. When death is introduced at an early age, children don't break down crying in the middle of the battle field. They don't mourn for days on the passing of a comrade- such grief could give the opponent an opening to snatch yet another life. If death is a part of life and it's explained to them early on, then they can move on and pick up the pieces faster. They can adapt to the changes better. They are taught to be resilient and strong, even when their guiding star has fallen from its place in the heavens.

Start them early.

Temari is wiping her eyes and making sad faces, forcing herself to feel an emotion she can't quite grasp. The Kazekage probably told her that it was acceptable to mourn and best for children to cry on the death of someone dear. But Yashamaru knows that the little girl could hardly imagine a life without her mother and so the full blow of Karura's death couldn't reach her daughter yet.

'_It's alright.'_ Yashamaru tells himself '_she'd probably want it that way.'_

He opened his arms and Temari, on instinct, ran towards the embrace. Kankuro slipped in, still confused and uncomprehending, but visibly affected by the heavy atmosphere radiating from the two blondes.

Yashamaru could only hug his niece and nephew closer. He didn't have the heart to tell Temari and Kankuro that they won't be hearing Karura's lullabies anymore, that she wouldn't be there to tuck them in bed anymore, that she wouldn't greet them every morning with fresh fruits- a luxury she made sure her children knew, and that she will never be able to hug them, kiss them, and whisper how much she loves them. She'll never be able to smile and tell them that everything will be alright.

"Uncle," came a soft voice against his neck. Temari shifted her position so that she could see Yashamaru better "Can we not go to the cemetery? I'd rather pick flowers from Mommy's garden."

Ah, yes. Temari did love his sister's flower garden.

"Okay."

Yashamaru doesn't let go just yet. He angles Temari's head against his shoulder and makes sure that Kankuro's head is turned towards his chest. He doesn't want them to see their uncle cry.

It doesn't make a difference if children are introduced to death early on. Yashamaru's chest still tightens at the memory of his sister's smile. His hands still tremble when he thinks about her last days, trying to tan under the sun to mask the sickness crawling underneath her skin. He still wants to cry and murder the Kazekage a thousand times for sealing the demon into his nephew. He still misses her unbearably so...

The only difference is that if you're a shinobi, you're not allowed to show it. You're not allowed to shed tears where people can see. You're supposed to stand up straight and act like nothing's happened. You can only keep walking forward.

In the words of the Sandaime Kazekage when he spoke to Yashamaru's platoon: "Fight. Just fight and keep on fighting. If a comrade falls behind you, don't look back. Press on forward and endure the fighting if only to make sure that the memory of the fallen continue on."


	3. Love

It's always been part of Temari's daily ritual to head into the small greenhouse to water the plants right after she wakes up. It takes precedence over all other aspects of her monotonous life in the desert. She can skip her breakfast or her bath, but she will never forget to water the flowers.

She can name many reasons as to why she always takes good care of her plants despite excess water bills and time they require from her. She gives a different reason to whoever asks her.

It's relaxing.

It's practical to keep medicinal herbs nearby.

I like flowers.

Some plants repel insects like you.

But Temari will never mention the real reason she waters the plants every morning and the real reason she'd rather skip her meals than forget this part of her daily ritual. Whenever she walks into the small greenhouse, she would see the ghost of her mother walking around the place.

Karura would be carrying a small mist spray bottle, spending enough time with each of her plants. Her mother would gently spray on the roots, talking to the flowers every now and then. Karura would turn around and say "Good morning, Temari. Would you like to help me water the plants? I could use some company before your father snatches you away from me."

How ironic.

The flowers sitting in the greenhouse behind their apartments connect Temari with her mother. It's what keeps her memory alive to the tessen-user. It's their special mother-daughter bonding. It's one of the earliest memory of her life. It's practically the only memory she has of her mother.

At times, Temari does not know what to think of her mother. The only memory she carries with her is a happy one. It's a bright star in her murky childhood as a shinobi and the daughter of one of the most powerful men in her village. Yet, she was taught to believe that Karura was someone who cursed the village of her birth and whose vengeful ghost dwelled in her youngest brother.

_Gaara_. Temari shuddered as she remembers that night so many years ago when only the harvest moon looked down on the bloodied streets of Suna after the rampage of the Shukaku.

Still, Temari never linked those stories with her mother, never with her mother. Her mother's soft lips were too gentle for such harsh words to her village. Temari knows because she still remembers her mother's kisses. Karura's hands were gentle, unlike the merciless claws of the demon within the sand.

Temari knew her mother made everyone feel loved, and they all loved her even after her death. She remembered waking up to find Yashamaru tending to the plants before he made breakfast. '_It would be such a waste to let these plants dry out_,' her uncle would say. She also remembered walking to her at night room when she heard light rustling sounds coming from the greenhouse. Her father would tend to the flowers in the darker hours so he would not have to face Yashamaru. She would hear her father sigh heavily and whisper '_ana assif_' to the small violet flowers her mother so loved. They never spoke of it, but they all visited the greenhouse for the same reason.

It is for that same reason that Temari wakes up at 6 in the morning everyday to water the plants and to trim away the dead leaves. But when she opens the door to the greenhouse, she is not greeted by the familiar haze of chestnut brown and indigo but by the piercing red of her youngest brother's hair.

In a few years, she might have been able to control her reaction. If this had happened a year later, Temari wouldn't have dropped the mist spray in her hand, spilling its contents, and tripping on her own two feet. But she does and she has hold her hands together in order to stop them from shaking. Still trembling, she forces herself to stand up and repeats the words "He's changed" like a mantra.

"You scared me."

He doesn't turn around to acknowledge her.

She sighed and turned refill her spray with more water. It's only been a few months since the Chuunin exams and less than a week since they got home from Sasuke's rescue mission. Temari still lowers her voice when she's talking to Gaara. She still creeps around the kitchen when he's there eating something. She still hasn't looked him in the eyes; still afraid she'll meet piercing gold instead of soft sea green.

"There's only one cactus."

"What?" Gaara caught her completely off-guard with his casual, and a bit confusing, observation.

"Uhh..." why did she have only one cactus? Temari looked down at the single wild cardoon she kept. It stands tall, like most of her other flowers, with its massive violet-purple flower head supported by a thick yellow spine. Spikes covered the plant from flower to stem. "I guess I'm not that into cacti cultivation." Her words were strained but she tried her best to sound casual. "If I place a cactus inside the house, Kankuro's bound to hit it and injure himself."

Gaara looked at the lonely plant, kept in a pot far away from the other flowers. Temari separated it because of the many times she's been pricked by the cardoon while trimming the other plants. There was nothing wrong with it. All of her plants are separated from others and labelled from genus to species. There was nothing wrong with it.

"Everything I touch," Gaara whispered "with tenderness, alas, pricks like a bramble."

Temari lifted her eyes from the plant to look at her youngest brother. Her eyes were still cast downward on his frame. Has he always been this small? The host of the Shukaku barely five feet in height. His pale skin and thin arms are definitely more pronounced when he's spouting haiku compared to when he's killing innocents.

"Bashoo?"

"No," came his immediate reply "Issha." Gaara finally tore his gaze from the violet plant and turned to his sister "From mother's collection."

Without another word, Gaara walked past Temari and went out the greenhouse.

x.X.x

It's been two days since she last saw Gaara. But she was sure he'd return. Sure enough, on the third morning, Temari heard the door of the greenhouse open. She did not need to turn around to know who it was. Even after meeting the loud blonde, Gaara still had a presence that announced itself upon entry to a room. The bloodlust lessened but she could still feel the temperature drop whenever he came close.

She continued potting another plant while Gaara came closer to the spot where she kept her cardoon. His footsteps were slow and measured, like a metronome. Upon reaching the cactus, she assumes because she kept her back to him, his footsteps stopped and an almost deafening silence descended on the pair.

"Temari," his voice was raspy "You didn't-"

"I wanted to." Temari finally turned around to see Gaara, his eyes wide with surprise, standing beside a small table with an assortment of different cacti. There were five pots, a spray and a small packet of fertilizer. Her little brother held one of the pots in his hand, its small round cactus plump with water. "I don't understand."

Temari's lips quirked into a smile. It was not something she was used to showing, not to strangers and especially not to her youngest brother. She took a small pot holding a vertically standing cactus with a red top and approached Gaara slowly, her only memories with her mother coming back to her.

"_Good morning, Temari." Karura's voice was soft and clear as a silver bell. "Would you like to help me water the plants? I could use some company before your father snatches you away from me."_

"_Sure." Temari ran towards her mother._

"_Wait, honey," her mother suddenly placed a firm hand on her shoulder and knelt down beside her with much difficulty. Her belly wasn't as swollen as the other pregnant women Temari's seen but Karura was pale and always out of breath. Temari wrinkled her nose as she wondered what could cause her mother such discomfort. "What's that in your hand?" Karura asked._

"_Oh," the little girl looked at her right hand and the sharpened blade she held in it "I'm sorry. Daddy said I can only run with sharp objects if I'm an expert at them."_

_With a sigh, Karura took the kunai from Temari. "Your father can be very idiotic at times."_

"_But that's okay, right? 'Cuz intelligence is inherited from the mother?"_

_Karura laughed at her daughter's words "Sure. Lord knows someone needs to remind your father on how to think straight," pointing to her daughter she continued "That's your job Temari."_

_The little girl beamed but her smile quickly faded into a questioning look "Why is Daddy idiotic?"_

_Karura lifted Temari up and placed her on the table where all the potted plants were resting. Karura's face shone with a thin layer of sweat and her hands were shaking. "You know when people complain about something, but they never change that something."_

"_No."_

_Karura laughed once more and Temari followed suit. "When people do an action, like say, tickle someone" she tickled her daughter to get the point across "They can expect the person to laugh." The little girl did laugh quite a lot and Karura waited for Temari to calm down before continuing. "But if I wanted to make you, say, cry, would I tickle you?"_

_Temari shook her head quickly "No, Momma. That's silly!"_

"_That is idiotic. Doing something over and over again and expecting a different result." _

_Temari looked up at her mother who held the kunai to a stargazer and chopped off a couple of dead leaves. "Like every other ninja, your father wants peace. Like everyone who has suffered through wars, he wants the fighting to stop." With the last stroke, Karura cut the flower and held the stem in her hands._

"_But he continues in the fighting tradition of his elders. He continues to believe that we must teach our children to fight, if only to defend themselves. He continues to believe that we must teach our children about death to make them stronger...To make them strong enough to build a brighter tomorrow - one he knows he'll never achieve."_

_Temari continues to watch her mother, uncomprehending but still curious. Karura finally turns towards her daughter and offers her the flower "But I believe, we need to teach the children not how to fight or about accepting death but how to love. Love can heal the deepest wounds and bring about the greatest change. Love can make friends out of enemies so we'll never need to fight again. Love can't bring back the dead, but it gives us friends who can keep us strong. Only when people truly love can we hope to achieve peace."_

_Temari's wide eyes were trained on her mother. She knows that Karura is trying to tell her something, something she can only hope to understand. "The last thing I want for this family is to end up broken because of the shinobi teachings. I want you to remember, Temari, that it's best to start loving early..._

_But it's never too late._

Temari approached her youngest brother. Perhaps, her mother was right. Even if Temari never really knew her mother and had only one memory of the lady with soft chestnut hair and beautiful indigo eyes, she knew that what they were doing was silly and idiotic.

Temari knew very little about love and loving and the only people she ever felt comfortable enough to ask are dead. How in the world will she go about this? She wanted to give her youngest brother a hug, but she herself wasn't ready. Temari hasn't felt the warmth of a hug since her maternal uncle passed away. So, she settles for placing the pot in Gaara's hands. She turns to look at him and although she's at a loss for words, she wishes she could pour out all her thoughts, grievances, apologies and regrets into one short look.

She doesn't believe that he killed their mother. But parts of her did hate him, because maybe, just maybe, if he wasn't born three years after her, then Temari would still be taking care of plants beside her mother. She doesn't believe that things like that should matter. She doesn't believe that her mother, their mother, would hold anything against Gaara. She wants to tell him how sorry she was for their lost time, for those moments where she looked at him and saw a monster instead of a victimized child, for the times she wished him gone, like a horrible nightmare. Most of all, she wanted to say

"Can we start over?"

Gaara looked at her, his almond shape eyes filled with unanswered questions and an unsettling dissonance. "Mother once said," Temari explained "That it's never too late to love."

Something hot and wet ran down her cheek. Temari thought herself stronger than this, but perhaps it wasn't strength to hold back tears. Maybe she's been taught wrong about that too. "She said," her voice cracking "that it's best to start early, but that it's never too late."

Her hand moved to wipe the tears streaming down her face. "Is it?"

Speechless, Gaara simply stared at his sister. He suddenly felt vulnerable and exposed, like a child robbed off the blankets that protected him from the horrors of the night. He felt vulnerable and affected because of the wetness that suddenly manifested in his eyes. He was about to cry too.

Except, Gaara knows and understands less about love than Temari. So, he settles for asking her "How do you cultivate cacti?"

Temari laughs, the tears falling faster on her cheeks. "I don't know. But I have a book. We can learn together."

It's awkward, strange and he doesn't know if he's doing it the right way, but Gaara tries to form a smile. "It's never too late."


End file.
